Twice she tripped over the uneven ground, but she stumbled along hopefully and bravely, and even tried to sing, only the snowflakes got into her mouth and made her shut it up tight.
Rosella had no idea where she was, and she felt very tired. How she wished now she had gone straight forward! There would have been no difficulty about that. By good luck she came close up to a large piece of overhanging rock; she did not remember ever seeing it before, so she was more than ever confused as to the whereabouts of the hill or of anything; but it was good for shelter. She placed her muff in a niche above her head, and sat down to rest awhile and consider what she had best do.
The wind howled around her only partially sheltered retreat, and myriads of snowflakes, drifting in, fell softly about her, creeping closer and closer, covering her boots, lying thickly on her frock, on her shoulders, drifting, too, into her eyes and making them blink, and powdering her hair with white. And she felt too cold to think—too cold to move.
After a while Rosella exclaimed: "This won't do. I must get up from here. It's such a dreadfully cold place!" And she determined to try and go on, if only to keep herself warm. So she shook herself, took down her muff, and went forth.
It was snowing as much as ever, but Rosella found that the ground was no longer flat. She was on the hillside, and as she climbed she wondered anxiously how she should know which side to come down, once she was on the top, in order to find the Moat House. Then she smiled as it occurred to her how much she must now look like the tiny, red-hooded, toy figure in the glass paper weight at home which showed itself enveloped in a miniature snowstorm when it was shaken. She plodded on higher and higher.
The weather was clearing when Rosella stood on the summit of the hill, and she was lost in admiration as she gazed at the largest, grandest Snow Castle she could never have imagined. Before it, too, stood a Snow Man splendidly proportioned and set up. To her intense astonishment, as she timidly approached he bowed politely.
Rosella curtsied instinctively, then laughed as she went round to see where he had broken. But he wasn't broken at all, for he turned too, faced her, and said—
"I need hardly introduce myself, Rosella. I presume you recognise King Frost when you meet him in any guise. You wished to see my Castle—and gave yourself a polite invitation. You are welcome!"
She was so taken aback with the suddenness of all this that she could find no words for reply. So she made another, much lower, curtsey, which she knew to be correct in the presence of Royalty, then she took his proffered arm. And the tall white figure and the little white figure mounted the white steps, went through the massive gateway, and proceeded down a long, narrow passage lighted with a ruddy glow from the high windows, which were glazed with something red, transparent, and glistening. It was much warmer here, and Rosella noticed that the snow had melted from her clothes, and that her companion also appeared to be dressed in red. His white face with its white beard and white hair wore quite a jovial air, and on top of it was set a crown of carved ice that reminded her of their chandelier in the drawing-room.